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Caretaker Needed
In need of part time lodge caretaker & receptionist—$18/hr. What luck, I thought. A part time job that pays well was exactly what I needed to hit the ground running after moving into my first off-campus rental. It seemed a little too good to be true, especially for Craigslist, but the place was only ten miles away—Lochenwood Lodge, described as a "mom and pop" motel sort of arrangement with a rustic style, fitting for the countryside of the area. Eager, I gave the phone number listed a call, but received no answer. I resolved to give it another try later, and maybe send a text expressing my interest instead. But as I was about to move on to finish unpacking my items, I received a text back from the number. It was the owner of the lodge, who identified herself as Melia. A few back and forth texts revealed that Melia wasn't initially the owner, but her husband, Samuel was—until he unfortunately passed away a few months back. Since then, Melia had struggled to care for the place while also running the operations on her own. Hence, she posted her ad to Craigslist. She gave me the address and I promised to meet for an interview the next day. I plugged the address into Google Maps, and was surprised to find that the lodge wasn't located on US-31 (the only main road running through the area) like I'd expected, but was instead setup at the end of many twisting side roads running through state park woods. Maybe it's part of the theme? Morning came. I took a shower, got dressed, and headed out onto the roads toward the lodge. I hadn't thought to send a confirmation text before I started driving, but I needed not, as Melia texted me first. I skimmed over the text as I drove—''come in through the back door'', she told me. That was a little weird, but I tried to justify it by considering maybe she didn't want me to disturb guests. That's a stretch. I pulled off the highway and onto the first of a few side roads. It was paved, though badly cared for and riddled with cracks and potholes. The next did away with concrete altogether, and all the way to the end, the remaining roads were disheveled dirt surrounded on both sides by dense woods. That should have tipped me off, but I was naive and gave the benefit of the doubt—even as I pulled up to the Lochenwood Lodge. Rustic ''didn't fit it so much as did ''decrepit. Its hardwood exterior was faded and warped, the framing of the doorway sagging and popping out of place. A garden once lay on both sides of the front door, though it was abandoned and rife with weeds, while wilting garden flowers had invaded the surrounding yard. The grass was knee-high when I got out of my car. No doubt Melia had had trouble caring for the place on her own, but this looked like more than a few months of neglect. A foot-trail of crumpled grass lead around the side of the building. As I tramped the trail, I peered into glossy windows and noticed no lights on inside. A bad vibe cropped up at that point, but an almost trance-like curiosity compelled me onward until the trail led me to a raised, covered porch on the back of the lodge. I ascended the creaking steps and noticed hanging from the porch roof was a long string of empty cans, adding to the bizarre, alarming atmosphere. I knocked hard on the backdoor and waited for what would surely be a cannibal hillbilly taking me by surprise. No response. I knocked again and waited, then called out. "Melia?" My phone vibrated in my pocket. I opened another text from Melia. Come on in, she said. Red flags went up. But again I couldn't stop myself from turning the knob and pushing the door open—it stuck momentarily, not quite fitting in its doorway anymore. A musty, dank odor greeted me upon entry into the unlit room. The carpeted floor crackled underfoot, caked with dirt. I quietly shut the door behind me and let my eyes adjust. The first thing I noticed was furniture strewn against one wall; this had once been a living-room, but presumably had become a storage space. Then I saw a pattern painted onto the wall: a strange yellow symbol, like a swirled question mark with two extra limbs attached. Putting my eyes on it petrified me, but I couldn't tell why exactly. My trance was broken when a muffled voice called out from another room. Come on in!" Melia called. "I am in," I shouted back, unnerved. A pause, then footstep sounds. "I'm in the room ahead." Her voice sounded unusual, like a falsetto. I crept forward against my better judgement, and stopped in the doorway. This next room was barren except for a table against the wall, where there lay a ragged, old book sprawled open. To the right of the table there lay another doorway, likely a closet. I knew better than to walk deeper into the room, especially after I noticed the closet door swayed slightly—someone had just gone in there. I took a step back. "I forgot something in my car," I choked out. As I turned around and speed walked away, heavy footsteps resounded from the room behind me. The next thing I heard chilled me to the bone. "Come back!" a man's voice roared, deep and echoing. I broke into a dead sprint and scrambled out the door, not even stopping to look back. I had never been so relieved to get back into my car. As I backed away, I saw the front door open, and a hulking shadow of a person stepped into the doorway to watch me go. I called the police upon returning home, and gave the address of the lodge. They sent an officer to the scene, but I will never forget the outcome of the investigation. The next day, that same officer knocked on my door, and when I answered he wore a bewildered, or annoyed, expression. He explained that he had followed the lengthy dirt roads down to the lodge's location, but at the end of the road there was no lodge. It was only an empty, grassy lot. "But I did find this." He presented to me a book with a yellow symbol etched into its cover. Dread came over me as I recognized it. "Is it yours?" I declined, and the officer left with the book. Category:Lovecraftian Category:Places